


Best Laid Plans

by TheGiantSquid



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Comedy, Erotica, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-01
Updated: 2006-10-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGiantSquid/pseuds/TheGiantSquid
Summary: Ron just wanted to have sex. Some time before he died. Was that too much to ask?





	Best Laid Plans

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Written for the first [](http://community.livejournal.com/todieavirgin/profile)[**todieavirgin**](http://community.livejournal.com/todieavirgin/) challenge. **Prompt:** 86\. Ron has had an unrequited crush on Harry for years, but knowing that Harry is straight, he has never done anything about it. On his 25th birthday, he decides that there are other fit men out there, and goes to a gay bar to get laid. Cue Draco Malfoy, much taunting, dirty talk and smutty sex.  


* * *

You know, it’s not like I planned on being like this. S’not like I woke up one morning and said to myself, “Gee. I think I’ll start fucking men today. Jolly good.” It was more of a gradual progression. Well, that’s what Hermione called it, anyway.

But I do—like dick, I mean. I like men. Took me a long time to figure it out, too, though I suppose not wanting to fuck Hermione should have been my first clue. Don’t say a damn thing. I know what you’re thinking. But I just didn’t get it. Didn’t get why I loved watching Quidditch, why I loved sharing a flat with Harry and watching him walk around with nothing on but his boxers…

Er.

Anyway, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I wasn’t understanding my own body’s messages. Until I turned twenty-one and watched Harry get down on one knee and ask Ginny to marry him.

I stayed in my room for days—I _wasn’t crying_ , you fucking ponce. I hid and felt really sorry for myself and then Hermione came over and gave me a good tongue lashing in that way she has, and then she asked The Question.

“Why are you so upset by this, anyway? Are you _jealous_ of Ginny?” she had demanded, hands on hips and looking particularly fierce. She left after that when I couldn’t come up with an answer, but not after giving me a pointed look. It took me a while to work it out, as is my way, but when I did, I reached a conclusion I was definitely _not_ prepared for.

I was in love with my best friend.

It would’ve been so much easier if that best friend had been Hermione, but it wasn’t.

When Harry and Ginny got married a year after he proposed, I stood by his side with a breaking heart as I watched him marry the woman he loved. He was so fucking happy. He was getting the family he always dreamed of and my little sister was getting the only man she ever wanted. It was a fucking fairy tale. And I was left to get drunk off cheap champagne. Worst night of my life.

No, actually, worst night was when I came out to Harry and my family. One year after the grand wedding of the century. Ginny was pregnant, of course, because she’s a Weasley, and Harry was beaming and blushing and so goddamm beautiful. I hadn’t meant to blurt it out the way I did, but, well, no use crying over spilt dragon’s milk, right?

Mum hugged me, of course, and Dad gave me a pamphlet the next day he’d “borrowed” from work; Fred and George, naturally, teased me mercilessly, but treated me no differently, for which I was grateful. Fleur tutted and said she’d always known and Bill kinda just stared at me for a bit before coming around and hugging me. Charlie was dead, so I don’t think he minded.

Ginny hugged me, too, a bit awkwardly, since she was as big as a hippogriff, and kissed me on the cheek. She told me she was proud of me.

But Harry. My Harry. He took it harder than I thought. Hoped. I think he was a little weirded out, you know, since we spent those years together sharing a dorm, and then a tent when we were hunting down Voldemort’s Horcruxes—heh, still don’t like hearing his name, I see. Well, he got over it. Eventually. It was easier for him once his baby boy was born, but don’t ask me why.

Now, he treats me no differently and he supports me and loves me for who I am. Stop staring at me like I’m a fucking nut, I know I’m right.

Despite that, I never did tell him about my feelings. I’m not _that_ stupid. Close your mouth, I know what you’re going to say.

Unfortunately, my feelings for him didn’t ever really go away. In fact, they seemed to get stronger over the years. You’d think him getting married would put a damper on things, but you’d be wrong. I love him just as much today as I did four years ago.

See, though I may have my flaws, I’m nothing if not loyal, and having any kind of relationship with a man didn’t really appeal to me because it would feel like I was cheating on my Harry. So I may have dated a few blokes—all Muggles, mind—but that was it. Some snoggage, too, that was nice, but no sex.

No sex.

Did I mention the part where I didn’t have sex?

That’s right, I’m a virgin. And I’ll be twenty-five this Tuesday.

Heh. You must think I’m pretty damn pathetic, right? Well, for once I wouldn’t blame you, not really, though you better wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you. And so that’s why I’m here, with you of all people. I want a nice fuck, and though you aren’t exactly the first bloke on my list, you’ll have to do.

*~*~*~*

Ron shifted in his seat on the bed and anxiously watched Malfoy’s face as he took in the information. Ron had to admit, it wasn’t the best of situations. And he probably could’ve handled things better, but it was too late for that now. Malfoy was here, in his flat, and Ron could be _having sex_ in a few minutes! Even if it was with Draco Malfoy. The git.

Malfoy’s lip curled, and Ron was so hung up he actually thought it looked kind of sexy, until Malfoy opened his mouth. “I’ll have to _do_?” he repeated, disgust lacing his voice. “Gee, Weasley, thanks ever so much. Need I remind you that _I_ was invited here to this hell-hole by _you_?”

Ron groaned and dropped his head into his hands. “This was a bad idea.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” murmured Draco. Ron’s head snapped up and he stared at him. Draco continued, “You want to have sex, I want to have sex. We both know how fantastic of a lover and teacher I can be. It’s a win-win situation.”

Gaping, Ron nodded meekly. He wanted this; he _needed_ to do this. Malfoy or not, Ron was going to have sex tonight if it was the last thing he’d ever do. Though Merlin knows he never in his wildest imagination thought that he’d be fucking Draco Malfoy.

He’d gone to the gay Muggle club a few times in the past few weeks, checking it out and seeing what kind of men regularly attended the club. He had actually seen a few who had peaked his interest, and he was hoping that they would be there tonight, but instead he got Draco Malfoy. Ron reckoned he was still in a bit of shock.

Malfoy looked the same as ever, of course. Still skinny, still pale, still blond, and still a giant prick. Ron was oddly comforted by this.

“I hope it goes unsaid that discretion is of utmost importance?” declared Malfoy. Ron cleared his throat and nodded.

“Yeah,” he croaked. “Definitely.”

Malfoy looked amused and stepped closer to Ron. Heart pounding in his chest, Ron took a shuddering breath and stood. He was much taller than Malfoy, which emboldened him a little. He might never have had sex before but that didn’t mean he was completely ignorant. He watched a lot of porn. Sex couldn’t be that much different, right?

“Weasley,” said Malfoy, “I know you’re a fairly dominant type of man, but I believe it would be best if, ah, I were in charge tonight.” He grinned then, his white teeth gleaming in the soft light of the bedroom. “I think you’ll like that.”

Ron swallowed thickly. Give up control? To Draco bloody Malfoy? “Okay,” he blurted.

Malfoy’s smile widened and Ron’s stomach did an odd loop-de-loop. Bloody hell. Malfoy took a step closer and Ron, in a moment of panic, stumbled backwards and fell onto the bed with an _oompf_. Malfoy laughed lightly. “I’m not going to bite,” he said with a smirk. Ron resisted the reflex to punch his lights out.

“How about we not talk?” Ron snapped.

Malfoy shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?” he asked. Without waiting for an answer, he began unbuttoning his shirt. Ron had opened his mouth to respond but instead he watched hungrily as Malfoy’s creamy white chest was exposed to him. Malfoy’s shirt landed on the floor and he then started on his belt buckle. Ron coughed and shifted on the bed.

Malfoy chuckled. “You like to watch,” he said softly.

Ron didn’t even try to deny it. It was true. Strip clubs were by far his favorite hang-outs.

“Shut up,” he said half-heartedly. Malfoy shrugged again. His belt soon joined his shirt on the floor and he toed out of his shoes while working on the buttons on his trousers.

“You know,” Malfoy murmured, “this could go faster if you were undressing too.”

“I said shut up,” Ron grunted, but he stood and pulled his shirt over his head. Malfoy’s lips quirked upon seeing Ron’s bare, hairy chest, and then he lowered his trousers to the floor. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

Ron stared. At Malfoy. At Malfoy’s _cock_ , which was just _there_ , bobbing and leaking pre-come and hard and red and holy shit, Ron just about came on the spot. When the hell did it get so hot in there?

“Like what you see?” Malfoy purred, and Ron’s cock felt like it was going to burst out of his jeans. With little grace, he toed off his shoes and socks and then quickly shimmied out of his trousers.

Malfoy burst out laughing. “Tighty-whiteys? Oh, Weasley, I’m so disappointed.”

Ron flushed head to toe. Grabbing Malfoy’s wrist, he jerked the other man toward him, growled, “Shut the fuck up,” and kissed him hard on the lips. Malfoy gave a squeak of surprise before practically melting against Ron’s body and returning the kiss in kind. And boy, could Malfoy _kiss_. Ron groaned loudly when Malfoy’s tongue slipped past his lips and slid in his mouth, and then growled when he felt Malfoy’s erection sliding against his belly.

Pulling back, Ron stared down at Malfoy as he opened his eyes and licked his lips. “Not bad,” said Malfoy, “for a virgin.”

“I know how to kiss,” Ron retorted. Malfoy simply smirked and shrugged.

“Before we begin,” said Malfoy, leaning forward and cupping Ron’s erection, “I have one little request.”

Ron blinked at him. “You want to top?” he wagered.

Malfoy gave him an incredulous look. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I bottom. _Always._ No, all I ask is that you don’t call me Potter. Is that clear?”

Ron reeled back. “I wouldn’t do that—”

“We both know I’m a poor substitute,” Malfoy said loudly. “But I swear on my father’s grave, if you utter Potter’s name even once, I’ll hex your dick off and spread our encounter all over the Wizarding world. Do I make myself clear?”

Stunned would be one word to describe Ron at that moment. Angry would be another. “I wouldn’t fucking do that,” he snarled.

Malfoy, looking satisfied, nodded and then squeezed Ron’s cock again. Ron shivered and thrust into Malfoy’s hand. “Good,” he whispered, and then fell to his knees. Ron’s mouth fell open in awe as he watched Malfoy remove his underwear, fling them to the other side of the room, and then promptly engulf Ron’s cock into his mouth.

“Holy shit!” Ron cried out. Oh it was better than he’d ever imagined it, so much better than wanking. Oh holy hell, holy shit, oh God. “Oh fuck, don’t stop,” he hissed, and grasped Malfoy by his white-blond hair, steadying himself. Malfoy’s mouth was hot and wet and bloody hell, he _sucked_ then and Ron keened, toes curling, it felt so fucking good—

And then Malfoy pulled away.

“Don’t stop!” Ron squawked, panicking.

Malfoy snorted and rose elegantly to his feet. He draped his arms around Ron’s broad shoulders and kissed him lightly on his lips, then his cheek, moving up towards his ear…

“If I kept that up, you’d be coming down my throat by now,” Malfoy whispered, his breath ghosting over Ron’s heated skin.

Shuddering, Ron could do nothing by nod, and before he knew it, he was on his back on the bed and Malfoy was straddling his hips. Their cocks brushed together, sending sparks of pleasure searing down Ron’s spine, and he arched into the sensation, wanting more.Malfoy grinned, and took Ron’s cock in hand and slowly began to stroke the heated flesh. Ron was in agony. He never knew how bloody good agony could feel.“So,” said Malfoy, giving the head of Ron’s cock a particularly pleasurable squeeze, “tell me what you know about sex between two men.”  
Ron gaped at Malfoy. “What? I—What? _What?_ ”

Snickering, Malfoy shook his head and then bent forward, stretching his arm out to reach the bedside table. Upon sitting up, he showed Ron a small tube held between his thumb and forefinger. “This is lubricant,” he said. “Do you know what that is?”

“Oh course I know what that is,” Ron bit out grumpily. “I’ve watched porn before.”

“Oh, goody,” drawled Malfoy. “Here’s a good tip: you should forget everything you’ve ever seen in pornography. It will only hinder you.”

“What? Why?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes. “Because it’s all staged, you imbecile. Sure, the men are enjoying it because it’s still _sex_ , but they also cut a lot out. Like the preparation stage, for instance.”

“P…Preparation stage?” Ron repeated, eyes wide.

With a snort, Malfoy sat up on his knees and said, “In order for _that_ —” Malfoy eyed Ron’s rather large cock— “to fit inside _me_ or any other body, you need to thoroughly prepare the arse or else it’ll hurt like hell for the bloke on the bottom.”

Malfoy slid off Ron’s body then and lay down on the bed, with his feet by the headboard. He spread his legs, his hard pink cock jutting out from his body, exposing everything to Ron. He then opened the tube of lube and applied a very liberal amount the fingers on his right hand.

Looking up, he said, “Word to the wise: you can never use too much lubricant.”

Ron nodded and licked his lips. Malfoy smirked and then slowly inserted one finger into his body. Ron’s jaw dropped and his cock twitched. With a sigh, Malfoy tossed his head back while still slowly pumping a finger in and out of his arse. And then, much to Ron’s immense happiness, Malfoy inserted another finger, grunting and pushing back against his hand.

Bloody hell, Malfoy was _fucking_ himself with his _fingers_. Ron had never been so turned on in his life.

And then there were three fingers! Ron couldn’t stand it anymore; reaching down, he took himself in hand and began stroking in time with the thrust of Malfoy’s fingers.

“I want to fuck you,” he blurted out suddenly.

“That had been the plan, Weasley.” Malfoy grinned.

“Call me Ron.”

Malfoy looked startled by that. “What?”

“Say it. Say my name.”

Licking his lips, Malfoy removed his fingers and crawled up the length of Ron’s body, and straddled his lap again. Taking Ron’s cock, he positioned the head against his arse and slowly sank down onto the length of the shaft.

“How does that feel? _Ron_.”

Ron gasped and his hands flew to Malfoy’s hips, gripping him hard and thrusting into his body.

“F-Feels amazing,” he stuttered, overcome by the sheer pleasure of it all. Malfoy was so hot and tight around his cock. “So fucking good.”

Malfoy hummed in reply. “To be a really good—ah!—lover, you need to make sure to pay attention. Is he enjoying i-it, is he having as good a t-t-time, are you hitting the prostate? There it is, _ah fuck_!”

Ron thrust again and Malfoy let out a low, incredibly sexy groan. “I know where the prostate it,” Ron growled as he began pounding into Malfoy’s body. All Malfoy could do in return was moan and grasp his own cock. Watching Malfoy stroke himself turned Ron on more than he thought was possible.

“You love to watch,” murmured Malfoy, and Ron grunted. Sweat poured down his cheeks as he and Malfoy fucked. He wasn’t going to last much longer, it felt too good, so damn good.

“Gonna come, gonna come, gonna come,” he babbled, and moved to pull out, but Malfoy shook his head and said, “In me,” and then squeezed around Ron’s cock, and then Ron was coming with a roar, stars bursting behind his eyes, his body shuddering with pleasure. He felt something warm and wet land on his chest and he realized that Malfoy was coming, too. It was one of the more erotic experiences in Ron’s life, watching another man come, seeing his face, how personal and intimate it all was.

They stayed connected for several minutes, breathing hard and heavy, reveling in the aftershocks, before Malfoy finally detached himself and stood up from the bed. He collected his wand and quickly swept it over their bodies, cleansing them both. And then, in a move that both surprised and pleased Ron, he crawled back into bed and under the sheets.

Suddenly, Ron felt really awkward. Should he thank Malfoy? Ask to do it again? What was the etiquette for these types of situations? He had no idea. Porn didn’t quite cover the “afterwards” of an encounter.

“Go to sleep,” he heard Malfoy mumble from his side of the bed. Ron smiled a little, which soon blossomed into a full-grown, shit-eating grin. He’d just had _sex!_ Bloody good sex, too, if he had anything to say about it.

And all before his twenty-fifth birthday. He sure as hell wasn’t going to die a virgin now.

*~*~*~*

You know, it wasn’t easy for me. It’s not like I woke up one morning, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and thought, _I fancy Ron Weasley_. It was a gradual progression. Very gradual. Practically glacial. Though I suppose “Weasley is my King” should have been a big indicator, but I was fifteen. How was I supposed to know?

Don’t look at me like that. You didn’t know either! At least I figured it out before I reached my twenties. But I sure as hell didn’t tell my family. Father would have killed me for sure. His only child, his only son, a pureblood—I couldn’t possibly be gay. So I kept it a secret. Pansy knew, though; she thought it was painfully obvious.

She says I’m still painfully obvious. Is that why you hit on me that night? Oh, right, right, you were _drunk_ , how could I forget? Seemed coherent to me, but that’s neither here nor there, is it?

You know, it took a lot of effort on my part to find out where you were going to be that night. Stop gaping, you look like a fish. Yes, I knew you were going to be at that club. That place was disgusting, by the way; why on earth did you choose it of all places? Ugh.

But anyway, you were there and I was there, and it really didn’t take much to convince you I was your only option. To be honest, I couldn’t stand the way the other men were staring at you. Don’t look so surprised. As much as it pains me to say it, you are a handsome man, Ron. I suppose that’s why we keep fucking.

Oh, stop being so dramatic. It’s not like this is the most astonishing information you’ve ever received. Remember that one time I told you I liked to be tied up? Ah, you do recall. I love it when you blush.

You should be thanking me, you know. I saved you that night from having to sleep with some overweight, sweaty Muggle named Ralph, or Rick, or God-forbid, _Henry_. You got _me_ that night. You should be thanking your bloody lucky stars I decided to save you from yourself.

Honestly, Ron, I wonder where your head is sometimes. Potter knew what you were going to do that night and was freaking out, trying to find Granger and then track you down together. He knew because you talk incessantly when you’re drunk. But why me? Well, it’s not my fault that Potter speaks in ridiculously loud tones when in a panic and I just happened to be walking by his desk at the time of his meltdown. Really, you should be blaming him, if anyone.

You’ve got to admit that it all turned out well in the end, right? I mean, you _did_ end up with me, Draco Malfoy, sex-god extraordinaire.

You know, I see you rolling your eyes, but your body isn’t denying the truth. Why, hello there, Mr. Cock. Would you like me to take care of you? Oh, how nice. It bobbed its head for me.

Oh, stop giving me that look. You know you love me.

_Fin_


End file.
